


Precious

by Belekoroz



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: and could definitely be read as platonic, the relationship is ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belekoroz/pseuds/Belekoroz
Summary: In Númenor, the ring started to talk.





	Precious

In Númenor, the ring started to talk. 

 

Not…literal speech, moreso whispers in the back of Mairon's mind, just out of reach of being understood, distant and foggy. It seemed, anytime he attempted to concentrate on them, they would disappear, only to reappear at random fleeting moments.

It intrigued and worried him at the same time, as it made little sense for it to do any such thing unless it had begun to separate itself from him, and form a consciousness of it's own, a worrying aspect. If it formed its own mind, he risked it disobeying him, defying him, and possibly outright abandoning him.

Against his better judgement, he elected to push the worries to the side temporarily, putting all his focus into his corruption and rituals. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't until much later that he realised, the rituals made the voice stronger. The voice had one day, started to become coherent, and he was occasionally able to pick out sounds and letters from it, which worried him greatly, and presented a problem. He could continue his rituals, risking the ring abandoning him, or he could abandon all the work he had worked so tirelessly on. Abandon- well obviously that was not an option, so ultimately he decided to risk the rings allegiance, and continue with the rituals.

Soon the ring began to directly call to him, although he still could not understand the words, the intent was clear enough. A slight pull on his mind occasionally, demanding that he move his attention to it's whispers, whispers he could not understand. Sometimes he swore that the ring seemed frustrated and annoyed at the fact that he could not understand, although he was not entirely sure that was not just his own feelings on the matter.

There were days he sat in his chambers, concentrating on the ring’s whispers to the point of pain, piercing headaches quickly becoming a regular thing for him. He grew more agitated as the weeks turned into months, his rituals and sacrifices becoming more and more common, until one day, he demanded the King's daughter.

Pharazôn was hesitant, concerned at the idea of offering up his only heir, but through Mairon's coy words and sweet speaking, eventually relented. Míriel had to be locked in her chambers, in hysterics, which in itself was a victory, having Pharazôn’s last annoying voice of reason locked away where she could no longer against his words.

That night, under a full moon, royal blood was spilt in Melkor's name, and he lavished himself with it, drenching the ring in it, allowing it to fully absorb the power of the life he had taken, and for many minutes, he sat in silence, the sound of his heavy breathing the only noise to be heard. 

 

And through the silence the ring spoke. 

 

**_Precious._ ** It called to him.

 

And Mairon wept. 

**Author's Note:**

> If it's not really obvious, it is Melkor speaking through the ring.


End file.
